


Not Enough

by RainingInExile



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3361853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainingInExile/pseuds/RainingInExile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana goes to visit Hannibal and finds something unexpected - or rather, someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place near the beginning of Naka-Choko, the morning after Will and Hannibal have put Randall Tier in the museum.
> 
> The warnings may change later on.

Alana paused, her hand poised over the elegant knocker on Hannibal’s door, as she caught sight of her own reflection smiling at her from the glazed side light. It was a soft curve of lips, barely there really, but the expression looked like a stranger’s. Smiles had been all too rare recently, ever since Will had been locked up. Before even, if she were being honest.

Her lips were dipped back into a familiar frown when she looked again, and Alana sighed, tucking away her observations for later self-reflection. She raised her hand back to the door, knocking firmly.

A few moments passed before the door opened and Hannibal, dressed down in a tailored shirt and pants with an apron thrown over them, smiled out at her. “Good afternoon, Alana.”

Alana felt her lips echo his smile, still hyperaware of it from her earlier observations. “Hello Hannibal. Sorry for showing up unannounced like this.” She apologized easily, certain he wouldn't mind but unwilling to presume.

“Not at all, though I must ask that you accompany me back to the kitchen before we speak any more. Lunch is at a pivotal point in its preparation.” Hannibal explained, stepping back and gesturing her in.

Alana smiled wider, as fondly amused as ever at the man’s careful attention to his kitchen. He was as dedicated to his food as he was to most other things in his life, constant and careful in his attention. It was a powerful feeling, being on the end of that attention, she knew. Piercing and understanding and expecting the best of you. Setting his own standards just a little bit higher than your own and so confident that you would be able to meet them that you felt guilty for doubting it yourself.

She slipped off her shoes and followed Hannibal to the kitchen, watching him return to a pan simmering on the stove and carefully stir the contents. He reached over and turned up the burner without looking, sure and confident in his surroundings here.

It smelled like a mixture of mushrooms, eggs, and vegetables. The thick, creamy smell was heavy through the kitchen, and impossible to ignore.

“That smells amazing.” She told him on an exhale, slightly breathy.

Hannibal smiled over his shoulder at her. “Thank you. If you’re not busy you should stay and have some with me. It’s a blanquette de veau, very good for the heart.”

Alana nodded, feeling at ease and wanted in a way she’d been missing up until she and Hannibal had started seeing each other. It was warming, to see Hannibal smiling at her, wanting to sit and share a carefully crafted dish with her. “That would be lovely.”

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Hannibal turned the heat back down, covering the dish and turning toward her. “So, what brings you here, besides the dubious pleasure of my company?” He asked curiously, tilting his head.

Alana smiled sheepishly and reached into one of her coat pockets, pulling out the navy blue tie he had left at her place the night before. He had received an urgent call from a patient, and in his haste had left it in her living room, abandoned much earlier in the evening.

It could have waited, naturally. It was hardly a staple in Hannibal’s wardrobe nor particularly important for any reason, but Alana had woken late with little to do on a Saturday morning, and had latched onto it as an excuse to drive over.

“You left it last night, I thought I should return it.” She told him, certain he saw through her.

Hannibal’s thin lips spread into a wide smile, looking pleased. “I am glad that you did.”

Alana couldn't help but notice his lips were redder than usual, almost bruised, and she wondered if they had been rougher with the few kisses they had shared last night than she realized. She took a few steps closer and reached out to trace a finger along his bottom lip, watching him watch her, making no move to interrupt.

There was a small split slightly off the side of the center, clearly healing but still a bit raised, and she frowned. “Are you…okay?” She asked quietly, concern and confusion warring with each other as she wondered if his patient had hit him.

Hannibal’s lips thinned and he gently grabbed her hand, pulling it away. “Alana, it’s nothing.”

And before she could protest and ask more he pulled back entirely, turning to leave the room even as he called “Let me go get some wine, I think perhaps a red Bordeaux would be best.”

She frowned, watching him go, and decided to wait until they had sat down for lunch to bring the topic up again.

The sound of gentle chimes rang from her pocket, and Alana pulled out her phone. “Hello Jack.”

“Alana.” Jack greeted in his usual brisk way before getting right to the point. “I need you to come in.”

“It’s Saturday, Jack.” Alana sighed, knowing before she mentioned it how little anything would sway the FBI agent.

“It’s urgent.” The man told her grimly. “I’ll expect you within the hour.”

“Make it an hour and a half, Jack.” Alana told him evenly, resigned to losing the next half of her day and the opportunity for lunch with Hannibal. “I’m in Maryland.”

Jack was silent for a moment before he replied with a terse “Fine. An hour and a half.” And hung up.

Alana glanced in the direction Hannibal had gone, but suspected he might be a few minutes yet picking out the proper type and vintage from his rather large collection. Frowning and feeling more than a little restless after Hannibal’s evasion and Jack’s demands, she wandered out toward the stairs and up to Hannibal’s room. She could put the tie away properly for him or at least close to his closet.

She had taken two steps into the room already, wondering what the inside of Hannibal’s wardrobe looked like, before she stopped dead, noticing the man half tucked into Hannibal’s bed.

Will Graham was fast asleep on his back in the middle of the bed, breathing deeply and evenly into the silence of the room. His hair was tousled and curly, more like it used to look before he cut and styled it, spread out on the thick white pillow beneath his head. The thick, soft quilt covered most of him, but left his bare shoulders glaringly open to her gaze.

The immediate, instinctual, disbelief gave way almost instantly to a stream of possible, if unlikely, explanations, but even as she thought of them she began to contradict them. Even if there was some explanation for Will sleeping over at Hannibal’s house, despite everything that had happened, Hannibal had a guest room. There was no logical reason for Will to be in Hannibal’s bed unless…

Her eyes flickered to the pile of neatly folded clothing on the dresser across the room. Complete with boxers. Clothing obviously more Will’s style than Hannibal’s. And then there was the bright red mark on Will’s shoulder, near the base of his neck. Clear to see even from the doorway, the shape of teeth across Will’s pale skin.

Alana felt suddenly intrusive, watching Will in such a vulnerable state, despite all of her questions and anger. Hand clenching around the tie she was still holding, Alana turned and strode from the room, intent now on interrogating the man downstairs who had no doubt noticed her missing.

Sure enough, Hannibal was on the first couple of stairs when she appeared at the top, looking gratifyingly nervous. “Alana-”

“Let’s go back to the kitchen.” She cut him off firmly, already continuing down the stairs.

Nodding obediently Hannibal led the way back, only turning to face her once they were in the middle of the room.

This time Hannibal waited for her to speak, politely letting her set the tone and pace of their discussion.

Alana took a calming breath, reminding herself not to jump to conclusions.

“Why is Will here?” She asked, quiet and level, meeting Hannibal’s eyes and trying to convey her desire for the whole truth.

Hannibal looked back with a neutral expression, devoid of his earlier nervousness and looking infuriatingly calm about the whole thing.

“I owe you an apology.” Hannibal told her sincerely. “I had not planned for things to turn out as they have, but my actions were reprehensible for hurting you, regardless of intention.”

The words were a confirmation and an evasion at the same time, and Alana felt angrier at Hannibal for sounding so reasonable even as he refused to put his transgression into words.

“You haven’t answered the question.” She called him on it, unable to force her voice beyond a whisper and hating the way it nearly stuck with emotion.

“Will and I were physically involved last night.” Hannibal confessed in a low tone, as straightforward as if he were reading a book instead of admitting to sexual relations with a current patient who had accused him of mass murder and tried to kill him.

“I don’t understand.” Alana told him, shaking her head in disbelief and pacing away as far as she could in the limited space. Even with Hannibal admitting it the very idea of Hannibal being not only with a man but with Will-

It’s not that Alana has ever had any problems with homosexual relationships, but with someone like Hannibal, and having known him for so long, she would not have expected to be blindsided learning about his orientation now.

Not that Hannibal hadn't usually had very well drawn lines between his professional and personal life, she supposed, so perhaps it wasn't as surprising as she had first thought.

But then with Will Graham – the same Will Graham who had kissed her months ago in his home –

“It is not a simple explanation,” Hannibal said, drawing her out of her rambling, circuitous thoughts, “but I will try.”

Alana glanced at the clock on the stove, frowning. “I don’t have time right now, actually. Jack called me in, it’s the reason I went upstairs to begin with.” She turned to him and held up the tie still closed and no doubt wrinkled in her fist. She wanted to be annoyed about being pulled away, but part of her wasn't ready to hear this yet. Whatever Hannibal’s reasons, and Alana was certain they would sound very convincing, she didn't want to sympathize. She didn't want to understand, she wanted to be angry at him for hurting her.

“Come back for dinner then.” Hannibal invited. “We’ll have time to discuss this properly.”

“Fine.” She acquiesced sharply, her anger at Hannibal and Will for putting them in this position and Jack for pulling her away from it leaking into her voice.

Hannibal walked her silently to the door with a contrite frown. Alana tried not to give in to the urge to hit him. To shatter that eternal composure.

She slipped her feet back into her shoes and paused, glancing up as though she could see Will through the floorboards, wondering what she was going to say the next time they saw each other. Wondering if he would even be ashamed, or embarrassed, or apologetic. Would he even care? Was she part of the reason he had done this? To save her as Hannibal thought he wanted to? Or perhaps to spite her for turning him down?

“Have Will join us.” Alana ordered, handing him the tie just before she walked through the door. “You aren't the only one I want an explanation from.”

Hannibal nodded, “I would be grateful if you would refrain from mentioning this to Jack, at least until we have the chance to discuss it later.”

Alana turned away without answering, giving in to the petulant urge even knowing she would do as he’d asked.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea whether blanquette de veau is actually good for the heart or not.


End file.
